


A Really Bad Joke

by Caticature



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (2012-2013), Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Batman is Somewhere, Crack Treated Seriously, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Jim Gordons POV, Joker (Heath Ledger) - Freeform, Minor Original Character(s), My First AO3 Post, but both are oblivious, crazy ginger, crazy is genetic, disturbed jim, jerome pops up way later in the timeline, my way of explaining jeromes crazy since the writers refuse to admit hes the joker, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caticature/pseuds/Caticature
Summary: Because the Joker couldn't procreate and have a normal kid. Jim Gordon hates it when he's right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place way in the future and its kind of a fusion of the movies and the show. I will make sure to explain what the differences are if need be, its pretty straight forward. All you really need to know is: Jerome is not the joker. Heath Ledger's Joker is the one in the story. 
> 
> Please enjoy!!

Jim Gordon sat at his desk shuffling through papers. He hardly had the time to file and sign most reports, simply because he was so _busy_. With loony’s like the Penguin and Scarecrow running around he hardly ever got a rest, not to mention time to _file and sign paper work_. Whenever one was incarcerated and sent to Arkham another seemed to take its place. It was, quite frankly, _exhausting_.

The current paper work he was slaving over was for one of the biggest headaches to grace Gotham; the Joker. Though, he supposed the dubbed clown was more than just a mere _headache,_ more like an _infectious virus_.

Shaking his head, he signed the bottom of the report with a flourish, once again aggrieved he was writing a report on how the Joker caused utter chaos once again. He understood the reasoning behind such reports, tightening security and all that, but they were tiring all the same. After having to write seemingly over a hundred reports for the Joker, he had the strongest urge to write down utter nonsense to entertain himself.

Clown escapes. Bat arrives. Fight breaks out. Things go boom.

Putting the papers aside in bemusement he looked towards his office door hearing footsteps. One of his main detectives knocked and opened the door looking grim. Of course, they always looked grim these days.

“What happened?” Commissioner Gordon asked tiredly.

“Miss Valeska-“

“Is she here for her appointment?” Gordon interrupted, remembering the strange woman that had come into the office last week. She arrived with claims many people have made before so it wasn’t _that_ big of an issue.

Many people claimed to have known the Joker before he was, well, _the Joker_. Most of the time these people were a little off themselves and those who brought believable leads, ended up proving false in the end. So, despite the fact the lady had come from a traveling circus and was very adamant in her claim, they went through standard procedure and gave her an appointment for later in the week.

Commissioner Gordon looked at the detective expectantly and the young man shook his head; “Sir, Miss Valeska was found dead this morning.”

Gordon froze and he stared; “By natural causes?”

The detective gave him a sarcastic look that went along the lines of; _what do you think_? That being the only reply he needed Gordon stood and snatched his coat striding out the door. Soon enough he was in a car with Detective Bard and they were on their way to the crime scene.

Three hours later Miss Valeska’s son sat in front of him his eyes rimmed red from tears. The boy was distraught over the death of his mother. When Gordon arrived at the crime scene he found the boy hunched in a corner with a shock blanket wrapped securely around him.

His shoulders were shaking along with his tears and Gordon’s heart went out to the boy as it always did with children. The boy was quite a bit older to be considered a child anymore but his grief made the boy look more vulnerable, more childlike.

They weren’t in one of the interrogation rooms, though. Jim felt as if it would be cruel to subject the new orphan to the eerie green walls and endless abyss of the two way mirrors. They sat in his office, recorder clicking on his desk.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your mother, Jerome?”

Jerome shook his head and Gordon sighed. The boy was tall with shocking ginger hair and looked very little like the woman they found dead. His mother had dark hair; dark skin and Gordon guessed the boy took more after his father.

Jim wanted to ask but something stilled his tongue. He was already aware of the life style the woman lived and didn’t want to bring up a sore subject to a grieving boy. He frowned and decided to follow a different string of questions.

“Can you tell us what your mother was doing the night she died?”

Jerome shifted and rearranged his hands on the table. His lips thinned out and he spoke, his voice rough from a night of shedding tears; “She was spending the night with one of her lovers.”

Gordon shifted, “Do you know who?”

The boy shook his head; “She has many, even recurring ones when we pass different towns.”

Gordon asked for the names of the ones he knew and the boy gave them. Mentally drawing up a timeline, he pondered. The time of death must have been that evening, since according to everyone’s testimonies she had been absent that whole day.

Her body was hidden in one of the stage carts, so it was likely the killer was a member of the circus. Going over the list of names Jerome gave him, he recognized two from the circus.

When the two men gave their testimonies earlier neither of them denied their involvement with Lyla Valeska, both accusing the other of killing the woman. They clearly despised the other and it was obvious they had been disputing over her for a long time.

Jim felt disappointed. The woman’s death was horrible, of course, but he had almost hoped the Joker had been involved somehow. That would have led to something perhaps, the one lead they would need to uncover the identity of the mad man. Though, it was becoming increasingly clear that the woman’s death was a product of the woman’s lifestyle.

“Did your mother’s love life bother you?” Gordon asked. Jerome became still and he looked up at the commissioner, his eyes big. Something unpleasant settled in Gordon’s gut as he stared at the innocent and earnest expression on the boy.

“If it weren’t for my mother’s love life then I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

Gordon chuckled uncomfortably, unable to understand why he felt a chill go down his spine. The boy seemed like a sweet kid, one who loved his mother despite her flaws. Yet, something felt…extremely _off._ He squashed it down and smiled at the boy, standing up.

Jerome followed suit, untangling his long legs from behind the desk; “Am I free to leave?”

The answer _yes_ was settling on his lips when he held back, remembering something. He thought back to when Miss Valeska entered the station the previous week, hoping to talk to someone. Since he always dealt with cases concerning the Joker he went out personally to talk to her.

Her appearance was startling, mostly because she was still in her stage clothes and it wasn’t every day you saw a _snake dancer_. She was annoyed but not surprised that she had to wait for another week to speak seriously with anyone.

They had a short conversation and Gordon warned her that if her premonitions were right they couldn’t guarantee her safety. She simply stared at him and said something that was coming back with sharp clarity;

“I normally wouldn’t get involved but…I’m frightened of… _for_ my son.”

The phrase could have meant _anything_ and honestly he didn’t dwell on the cryptic phrase that had two meanings. Now, though, with her dead body hanging over it, it took on a different seriousness.

He glanced sharply at the dead woman’s son now and looked him over. It’s possible he could…? Gordon shook his head. Anyone who thought they knew the Joker would fear for the life of anyone close to them.

“Sir?” Jerome asked his hands stuffed in his pockets. Gordon looked at the boy’s face remembering the way his mother said ‘ _frightened **of**_ **’** before she seemed to correct herself and said ‘ _frightened **for’**. _

But…that didn’t- _it couldn’t_.

“Would you be willing to do a favor for me, Jerome?” Gordon asked. The boys head tilted slightly in a silent gesture that seemed to say _; go on._ Gordon smiled tightly and herded the teenager out of the room as he spoke.

“It would be very helpful if you could provide a DNA sample for Forensics, we’ve been taking samples all day, it’s more or less procedure.”

Gordon bit his tongue and hoped the boy didn’t question the request. It was a bent truth; there was no way they had been taking samples from _everyone_. And it _was_ procedure but only the ones with cases against them were required to give samples. Jerome had no case at all _and_ had an alibi.

He only wanted it to test the premonition that was creeping through his brain but Jerome _had_ to agree. If he consented and gave a sample to the GCPD, then it would become their property and Jim could do whatever he wanted with it.

Thankfully, Jerome was oblivious to his conflict and pondered the request for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and accepting. Quickly enough the boy had signed some papers, gave the sample, and left in a cab.

Watching him leave, Gordon once again felt his stomach go tight with anxiety, even if he wasn’t quite sure what for. Turning away from the window he surveyed the station and took in all the people in various costumes strewn about. He talked with one of his detectives and met with another circus suspect, itching for the opportunity to investigate his hunch on Jerome further.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Gordon pursues his curiosity about Jerome and develops a theory that couldn't possibly be true. Could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't last very long it seems. Here is another chapter.

Jim didn’t make any head way on the case till later the next evening and Jerome’s DNA sample proved to be useful in that regard. While he pursued a more pressing case Detective Bard followed up on Mr. Cicero’s “vision”.

Gordon wasn’t sure what the blind fortune teller was trying to prove by claiming his third eye let him see where the murder weapon was. Jim had seen too many crazy things in his day to completely disregard the man’s vision. Maybe he truly was psychic?

But Jim was no fool and when he sent off Detective Bard to investigate he had already decided that if something _was_ found, then Mr. Cicero was most likely involved in the murder. It was too convenient.

The hatchet they recovered with the Satanist symbols carved onto it was a gold mind of evidence. Whoever threw it off the Kane Bridge took the time to clean it, which was an immediate tell. If a Satanist cult fanatic had truly killed Lila Valeska, the carved hatchet would have been present with her body.

The death would have been pointless otherwise, fanatics _always_ left a sign. The whole point of a cult was to spread its teachings and if there was a murder that was committed in its name, then it would be clear.

The hatchet was clearly a ploy to shake them off.

It also made Mr. Cicero’s “prediction” an obvious lie. The arrogance of some people never ceased to amaze Jim. There was no way that Mr. Cicero wasn’t involved with the crime now, which was a shame, because Mr. Cicero was Jerome’s only alibi.

And, unfortunately for Jerome, his DNA was on the handle of the hatchet. It was cleaned well though and the DNA found wasn’t enough to hold over in court. The sample they recovered could have easily come from Lila Valeska as she was being murdered. The human body was a mothership of germs and organisms; it was possible the bit they found of Jerome could have been lingering on her skin from contact with him.

Jim paused in his thoughts and rubbed his eyes tiredly as a well meaning forensics intern wrung their hands in front of his desk, waiting to be dismissed. He supposed it was time to take Jerome in for a follow up interigation but something was making him want to hold off.

Something just wasn’t adding up. Jim was sure that Jerome killed his mother. The kid seemed normal but Jim had enough experience on criminals to know that they could hide in plain sight and act normal if need be. But they needed him to confess; that, or they needed to recover more evidence.  

The forensics intern continued to shuffle awkwardly in front of him and he waved her away, smiling as warmly as he could.

“Thanks, Carla.”

The girl beamed behind her glasses and left, reminding him to much of another eager forensic scientist who was now riddle obsessed and currently in another feud with the Penguin. These feuds kept getting bigger and nastier as the years went by and Jim kept getting the disturbing thought that the two enjoyed being at each other throats.

There was a shoot out that occurred earlier because of this and another building that was taken over and used for the Riddler’s elaborate and unnecessary schemes. He just came back from the scene, handing the reigns to the acting Captain and now he was in his office.

He originally planned to grab his things and go home for at least four hours of sleep before he was called back. But he asked Carla to keep him updated on Lila Valeska’s case and now he sat pondering the boy with the new evidence in hand.

It wasn’t just him though; it was also the blind fortuneteller who led them to the hatchet in the first place that was on his mind. What was the old man’s role in all this?

If he was younger, the fresh faced and eager detective he once was, he might have called the old man and Jerome in and try to talk them into a confession. But he wasn’t that man anymore.

These days he preferred to gather clean evidence and then confront the suspect. He found there could be too many variables and too many ways for you tip off the suspect in what they needed to hide. Besides, they had the Batman to be the hard headed ‘punch in the face’ hero that Jim tried so hard to be back then.

Also, how did the Joker play into all this? Perhaps he didn’t have any role. But Jim felt like Lila Valeska was important to all this somehow. Did she really know the man before he took the role of the Joker? There’s no way he would ever know now.

One might say it fit. She was part of the circus. And really, what made the Joker choose a clown of all things? Yet, that didn’t seem to fit either. Jim doubted the Joker ever was a part of the circus. The man was to erratic, to menacing.

But, how could they know?

Then there was the fact Lila got involved at all. When she came in she didn’t seem like she was telling him she used to know the Joker out of obligation. She wasn’t there to “do the right thing” as they say. It felt personal and she seemed nervous. Any one in their right mind who knew the Joker from before would stay away, _far away._ So what was her angle? Why come at all?

 _“I'm afraid of---for my son.”_ She had said.

He asked her briefly when she had claimed to know the man.

“ _When was the last time you saw him_?” He had asked.

She had hesitated then, her fake jewels glittering as the sun set from the GCPD windows and she looked out replying softly, but resolutely;

“ _Nineteen years ago_.”

And then suddenly, it clicked. Jim gasped half surprised half horrified at the big ‘what if’ that splashed across his brain.

“No.” he breathed, shocked before he swallowed dryly and shook his head calming down. There was no way. He was so desperate to undercover the past of the Joker that he was thinking ludicrous things.

So what if Jerome was eighteen years old? It was a coincidence. Besides, Jerome seemed like a good kid who, admittedly, probably had some issues, they all seemed to be carrying some type of demon, but he was by no means on a manic level like the Joker.

So even if his premonition proved true, Jerome would be nothing like him. Insanity wasn’t genetic. Yet, Jim couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He let out a few calming breaths and shook his head ridding himself of his nerves. It had been awhile since he got so shook up over something like this. He allowed himself a moment before making a few calls.

Perhaps he _would_ bring Jerome in tonight. But not before he had someone he trusted run up to Arkham and require the samples they need there. Luckily for them the Batman recently helped incarcerate the Joker and the clown was once again housed in the Asylums walls.

All he had to do was wait, wishing he could shake the feeling of dread that was creeping up his spine.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim interrogates Jerome again. The results come in and he faces the truth.

“Do you recognize this man?” Jim asked, holding up a paper for Jerome to see. The teenagers brown eyes narrowed as he took in the drawing. It was from one of their forensic sketch artists who imagined what the Joker could have looked like before his scars.

It was morning and Jim Gordon had yet to receive the results he asked for but he brought the kid in anyway. He was still a suspect after all and follow up interrogations were a given, seeing as people often added and took away from testimonies.

Jim spent the morning before Jerome arrived looking at the drawings and photos he planned on showing him. And after staring and brooding over the pictures of the Joker, it was like his image was seared into his brain, and when Jerome came into the precinct he _stared_.

The brown eyes, the jaw, the _height_. The way his cheeks crinkled when he smiled, it was all the Joker, but it was Jerome as well. He led him to one of the interrogation rooms and asked him to give his testimony and whereabouts a second time. That was thirty minutes ago and now he was showing him the drawing’s, paying close attention to Jerome’s reactions.

The boy was curious but not much else. He shook his head in answer to the question and leaned forward earnestly;

“Is this the man who killed my mother?” His eyes were lined red and his eyebrows were scrunched. Jim quelled the urge to say, ‘ _you killed your mother Jerome_ ’, to see what kind of rise and reaction he could get.

Jim wasn’t sure if the kid was just a phenomenal actor or if he really was innocent. He was on the fence about it. Instead he sighed, “No. This man was incarcerated a couple of days before her death, but we believe she may have known him.”

Jerome’s hand twitched on the table as Jim took the picture, looking down at the folder in his hands to choose the next one he would show.

“Was he one of my mother’s lovers?” His tone was simple, and he hadn’t raised or lowered his pitch. Yet, Jim felt a cold chill run down his spine and he quickly glanced back up to Jerome, whose face was schooled to be the solemn look of an orphaned teen.

He blinked questioningly and Jim answered cautiously; “We don’t know.”

Jerome ‘ _hmm_ ’ed and Jim chose the photo he wanted to show next. It was taken during the Jokers first stay in the Asylum and it was the first photo of the Joker they acquired without all the grease paint covering his face. It was a day that felt like a mile stone, almost like they had unmasked the Joker, yet it was also chilling, to see the face and realize the Joker really was just a man.

He held it up for Jerome; “This is the same man but it’s a live photo and recent.”

Jerome studied it before shaking his head once again but this time his brown eyes held a little spark of interest. Jim stomach squirmed and he questioned whether getting Jerome involved in this was a good idea. The test results were still being worked through and he found that the Joker could easily poison a young mind even if he was miles away.

The Joker was charismatic and had an erratic charm that caused the scum and villainy of the earth to turn to him. Some in universal fear, others in admiration, and while he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure Jerome killed his mother, it was still not safe to expose a teenager to the tangled web of the relationship between the Joker and the police force.

“What did he do?” Jerome asked, eyeing the photo, especially the bare scars on the Jokers face that were usually covered by his infamous paint. Jim was visibly hesitant but concluded that the media had loads on the Joker and if the kid really wanted to, he could find out plenty. He opened his mouth to reply when they were interrupted.

Carla, the forensic intern, opened the door and poked her head in. Jim Gordon glanced behind him to look at her and immediately froze. Even without looking at the results Carla undoubtedly had, he knew what the result was.

Carla’s face was whiter than death, her round eyes becoming crowded behind her thin frames. He could see one of her hands clutching an envelope, the manila folder bending awkwardly in response to her tight grip. She wasn’t looking at him, but the boy in the chair across from him, her fear clear.

Jim swiveled and looked at Jerome, shocked. This was the last thing he expected, sure he had the suspicion, but he had gone so long having any type of lead on the Joker go stale that he was sure that this lead would prove false just like all the others.

And for just a second, he could see the Joker, sitting in the chair that Jerome was sitting in now. But the image faded, and he was left staring at the redheaded boy who was glancing back and forth between Carla and Jim, confusion evident.

Jim forced a smile on his face, excused himself and left the room, gripping Carla’s arm and pulling her into the adjoining room. They stopped and took a moment to take deep a breath like they had both done sprints. Wordlessly they looked through the two-way mirror at Jerome who was looking at the door Jim left through uncertainly.

Jim turned away and spoke; “He is _not_ the Joker.”

Carla was far more rattled than he was, but she was also far younger than he and inexperienced. Jim reached out and placed both his hands on her shoulders. Squeezing them reassuringly he waited to speak till she looked him in the eyes.

“The sins of the parent are not the sins of the child.” He quoted as her eyes fluttered shut and she swallowed harshly. She jerkily nodded her head repeatedly;

“I know, “she whispered, “I know…its basic science… but…”

She didn’t need to say anything else. Jim understood perfectly. It was shocking and strangely horrifying and it was easy to cast blame and fear onto someone who was now connected to the madman so personally.

There was silence as she passed the folder and he looked over the results that proved the connection between the two. He briefly wondered if the Joker knew but, somehow, he doubted it.

The news was somehow terrible in a way. If Jerome proved innocent in the murder of his mother, then he would forever have the shadow of this madman in his life.

_If he was guilty…_

The thought ceased and Jim found he couldn’t bear the thought. He would open that can of worms when he came to it. He turned to look at Jerome again willing himself to process the information in a healthy way when the sight before him caused him to drop the papers in his hands.

In his haste to leave the interrogation room earlier he left his file of the Joker on the table. The file was his own personal one he kept on the Joker and it held more than just photos. It held pictures of past crimes, reports and his own notes on the man. It was usually the file he reserved to show a new mayor or give to new recruits.

It held some of the Jokers worst crimes. His most heinous and unspeakable acts that left you wondering if the Joker was some type of alien because how could a human do this? He had not seen a single person peruse that file for the first time who did not go green in the face. He had never seen anyone go through each photo and not look incredibly disturbed by the carnage and the deranged range of expression each mug shot provided.

At least, not until today.

Jerome was calm, _interested_. He took a photo from the bunch and held it up to examine. Jim recognized it as the photo of a poor librarian who was carved intricately, delicately and, most importantly, brutally.  It was one the more bloodier and inhumane photographs in the bunch. One of the mayors wept over it, imagining the suffering the woman had to go through.

When the Joker was finally incarcerated they asked him why. Why did he do it? It was more bloody and personal than any life he had taken before. The Joker just looked at them like that was the entire point and looked Jim in the eyes;

“What? You mean you didn’t find it fun- _ee_ , Commissioner?” Then he laughed, his insanity clear as he was dragged off.

It wasn’t funny. The _picture_ wasn’t funny. Nothing about what the Joker did was amusing like the man seemed to think it was. Jim didn’t think there was another human in the world who would think so. But maybe now there was.

Jim watched, his horror growing and curdling in his gut like sour milk as Jerome examined the photo. His face was blank, till suddenly it wasn’t. One eyebrow quirked in amusement, one corner of his mouth coming up suddenly like it was attached to a string and an invisible puppet master suddenly pulled.

On the other side his lip was pursed in thought before he chirped one single amused chuckle. It was like a hiccup or an exhale of air. It was barely noticeable and interested, like an intrigued _; Huh_.

Jim could feel his teeth clattering against each other, feeling like his entire body was being submerged in subfreezing temperatures. Jerome set the photo down and flipped to another, his face back to being indifferent but his body language giving way to his interest in the folder he held in his hands.

Jim felt sick to his stomach and he forced himself to turn away, shocked that the young man he previously thought so innocent was going through the work of the Joker with admiration. With understanding, like he had seen no other do before.

Carla and Jim's eyes met. They could see in each other’s eyes the realization they both thought they were ready to accept but not in the way that was coming to light now. The DNA was a positive match but DNA didn’t determine character. Behaviors weren’t genetic, it just wasn’t possible.

But know it was becoming clearer, and it was difficult to face the conclusion. The horrify truth that there might be someone out there who could fit this statement. That there was someone out there whose name could be grouped with the Joker and you would think; ‘ _Huh. That makes sense.’_

Jim just hoped and prayed that it didn’t go with this one, that the boy wasn’t on the same level as the Joker, that the sight before them was born from ignorance. Because Jim didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to think it, and didn’t want there to be truth and meaning ringing from the statement; 

Jerome Valeska: Son of the Joker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter so far. Hope you enjoyed it too! Open ended ending...may or may not add more.


End file.
